Young teacher with the powers of intellect and wit to do some serious damage in this world. Instead, I've chosen a lifehood of bondage and servitude. That's got to count for something, doesn't it?

Thursday, February 28, 2013

What Dreams May Come (will inevitably be about school)

I am fairly certain that every night for the last two weeks, I have had a dream about my job. Maybe I should be surprised that it hasn't happened this frequently in the past given how colorful a typical day is in my classroom. But it's becoming rather exhausting when I can't even escape the teacher life at 3 AM on a Saturday.

There are two main categories these dreams fall into:

1) The Anger-Inducing kind

Remember this episode of "Friends" where Phoebe is super mad at Ross, but she doesn't know why until she recalls a dream she had about him the night before? Yeah, this happens to me a lot in regards to the people in my classroom and workplace. To get all psycho-analytical, I suppose the dreams are often an extreme manifestation of some negative feelings I'm harboring towards students or co-workers that I haven't quite worked out in my mind yet. But then I wake up illogically angry at them for something they didn't even do in real life, and I walk into school, and I inwardly snarl at them a little. Don't worry, the loathing passes pretty quickly. Most of the time.

2) The Paralyzing-Fear-Followed-By-Overwhelming-Relief-When-I-Wake-Up kind (it just dawned on me I could have summed that all up with nightmare. Well, too late now.):

To continue my Freudian trip, these dreams are most likely the by-product of unresolved worry or fears related to my job and they usually come in the form of finding out I have had 15 new students added to my caseload, my classroom has gone completely out of control, I'm teaching in my underwear, or, the motherload of all nightmares: I've been reassigned to my first teaching job--which you can pretty much imagine as Michelle Pfeiffer in "Dangerous Minds". Except, nobody really learned anything in my school. Just imagine me on my knees, crying out, "Why God, Why?!?!" right before I'm startled awake in a cold sweat (okay, a little exaggerated). Then, I breathe a sigh of relief with the realization that it was all just a dream, and a cat--miffed that I have rolled over on him--huffs and goes to find a more peaceful place to sleep.

How much more lost sleep and angry cats am I going to have to endure before my recurring nightmare dissipate? More importantly, how can I get back my recurring dream that Justin Timberlake is my best friend and we have the best conversations ever?!